You were supposed to be home by 4:30 pm after work, but a meeting popped up, and you couldn’t skip it. So you texted Ash, told him you’d be late and that he’d have to pick up Milo ant the nanny’s after his shift, since you couldn’t.

No complaints, no guilt trips, just: “Alright, I got him. Don’t rush.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little during the meeting when you saw his text. Calm. Grounding. Classic Ash.

And he had been full-on dad mode while you were stuck in that meeting.

He picked up your six-month-old at the nanny’s and came back home. Milo was restless, so Ash laid him down on the blanket in the play area of the living room. He played with him for a few minutes, showing him toys and encouraging him to start crawling. Ash wasn’t usually the patient type. A few months ago, he probably would have brushed it off. But now, he just enjoyed the moment, bonding with his son.

After a while, Milo got fussy. He wasn’t paying attention to Ash and kept looking around like he was looking for you. Ash noticed, scooped him up, and paced the living room, softly talking to him and rocking him back and forth until the sobs quieted down.

Once Milo calmed down, Ash fed him, doing his best to keep the kitchen clean, which wasn’t easy. Then came bath time. Milo hated it at first but eventually tolerated it.

Then the fussiness returned. Milo was clingy and cranky, a clear sign of teething. Ash rocked him in the living room while watching TV, but it didn’t help. Milo kept fussing, drooling, and chewing on Ash’s t-shirt and chain.

Ash grabbed a teething toy from the fridge, which soothed Milo a bit. But he was still cranky, so he turned off the TV, put on some calming background noise, and went shirtless : skin-to-skin contact always helped to soothe Milo.

That worked.

A few minutes later, around 7:30 pm, you came back home. You kicked off your shoes and took off your coat, dropping your bag.

When you walked into the living room, you saw Ash, shirtless, holding Milo. The little one noticed you immediately, wide awake, still chewing on his toy, gripping his father’s inked and toned bicep.